


First Time in Space

by sarold34



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Oral, Smut, male first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarold34/pseuds/sarold34
Summary: You asked a really stupid question. But you didn't think he would answer.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, Mando/you, The Mandaloran/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 101





	First Time in Space

It’s been about two weeks since Mando told you his name. In fact, you’re still getting used to calling him Din. You never asked, as you figured people asked him a lot. You were sitting in the cockpit of the Razor Crest one night, feet kicked up on Din’s lap just beginning to fall asleep when Din spoke up:

“It’s Din,” he said. There was a slight hesitancy in his voice. Like he wasn’t sure of himself, which you thought was extremely odd for him.

“What? What is?” you asked, as you sat up in your chair and moved your feet from his lap.

“My name. My name is Din Djarin,” he said it with such finality, like he had been waiting an eternity to use those words again.

“Oh. That’s a really nice name. Din.” The last part was both an acknowledgment to yourself and an affirmation for him. You did really like the name though. It suited his somewhat icy exterior in a particular way.

“Please still use Mando everywhere else that isn’t the Crest. I…trust you,” he said, stumbling over the last bit. You weren’t sure why that was difficult; he’s said he’s trusted you before.

“You know I won’t. Thank you for telling me Din,” you said, trying out the new name. As you got up and started to leave the cockpit to head to sleep, you walked over and kissed his helmet. Approximately where you guessed his cheek would be. You had gotten into this habit a while ago since you started “dating”, a word that still feels far too stupid and immature for whatever you two are.

Since this moment, he hasn’t revealed any other personal details, but you didn’t mind. He’s a private guy; he made that clear when you started your relationship all these months ago. Everything between the two of you is exactly how it has always been. He agrees to help you track down your lost father, while you help him with general ship upkeep and supplies while he hunts. There is something eating away at you, though: what he looks like. You hate yourself for thinking it and you keep trying to suppress the feeling, but it keeps bubbling back up. You know how important the Creed is to him and you respect it; you always have. But over the months you spent together, you’ve grown more and more fond of him and you just can’t help but wonder what his hiding under that dome of metal. When he walks into the hull while you're fixing some wires in the wall, you find yourself possibly making the biggest mistake of your life, but you can’t seem to stop.

“Do you ever think about taking the helmet off?” you ask. You want to kick yourself. Throw yourself off the ship maybe. Become part of the electricity flowing through the wires in front of you. “Wai-“ Din cuts you off, but even you know you can’t take your words back.

“No,” he says, as he lifts himself into the crawlspace where he sleeps and shuts the auto door. It was cold, firm, and direct. He always manages to say full paragraphs in single words, and you’ve begun to translate the meaning in those words. That was a “no, I don’t think about it”, a “no, I’m not taking it off”, and a “do not ask again”. You have to cough down the lump forming in your throat.

“What a stupid, fucking thing to say,” you say under your breath, as you turn back towards what you were working on before you put your big foot in your mouth.

~

The rest of the day you could feel the tension of your question lingering in the air. He hasn’t looked at your directly since. Well, at least you think so. It’s hard to tell under the helmet. You’ve avoided looking at him too. Every time you try, you decide against it, thinking you might cry. You know you hurt his feelings, possibly even did something extremely culturally insensitive, but you don’t know how to apologize. You said a thought you promised yourself you would never validate out loud, how do you live with that now?

“It’s okay,” he says out of the blue, not looking at you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “It’s okay?!” you ask, incredulously. You try and control your voice, but you feel that familiar crack forming in the tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Oh, sweet girl come here,” he adds, looking up at you and seeing you getting worked up. Even though you’re trying really hard not to. You untangle your legs from the crisscross you were sitting in on the floor opposite him and crawl into the space he made in between his legs and rest your head on his chest. He’s taken all his armor off except the helmet which he has done a lot since you started getting more involved. You let out a really big sigh, both in response to the comfort of his arms and to desperately avoid crying. “I was never angry with you for asking. It just wasn’t a question I was prepared to handle,” he continued once you found a comfortable spot.

“I thought- I thought that I had offended your entire way of life. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I-I really didn’t,” you say. You feel a couple tears drip past your nose and onto the warm metal of the hull and you want to kick yourself for the second time this day.

“I wasn’t offended sweet girl. And I wasn’t uncomfortable either. It’s just…” he trails off and sighs. “I’ve seen that you were struggling with something for a while. Muttering under your breath while working, shaking your head out of your own thoughts, opening your mouth to ask me something and then stop yourself. I didn’t know what is was, but it hurt me that you were struggling so much, sweet girl. When you asked me that question earlier, I reacted out of instinct. It didn’t occur to me until much later that this must have been what you’ve been struggling with. I know you respect me and how I live, and I know you wouldn’t ask me that without knowing what it meant. I must have hurt you with the way I answered, and I’m sorry,” he says and gives you a careful squeeze. You didn’t realize you were this bad at hiding your feelings. You made a mental note to be better at that.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or anything. My curiosity got the better of me. I’m so sorry Din. I’m really really sorry,” you respond. You readjust in his embrace and something feel lighter about him, but you’re not sure what it is.

“Sweet girl. Look at me. I’m not mad at you, just look at me,” he says.

You wipe your nose and face a little before doing what he asked. You blink a couple times. In all your stupid sniffling and self-loathing your didn’t realize he took his damn helmet off. You cannot believe how good he looks. His hair is deep chocolate brown, slightly wavy and tousled from being in the helmet. He has a mustache and a scruffy beard, which are surprising well kept from someone who spends his life in a helmet. He has the strongest jawline you’ve ever fucking seen; you make a mental note that it will probably be good to sit on. You finally zero in on his eyes, his fucking eyes. They’re this beautiful rich brown, and incredibly calculating. He’s taking you in the same time you’re taking him in. Likely happy to finally be viewing you without the electronics from the helmet. You feel like an eternity has passed before you speak again.

“Din. You didn’t need to. I mean I wasn’t asking you to. You shouldn’t have felt obligated to,” you can’t seem to form a single coherent thought.

“I know. You weren’t really asking for me to take it off earlier. You were curious, but that didn’t mean you were asking. And I can’t thank you enough. I took my helmet off because I…trust you,” he stumbles. Just like when he told you his name. What is it about that phrase? “No. Because I love you, sweet girl.” He says with a tone like it is the truest, most absolute fact of the universe.

You can’t even think of a response. You decide to kiss him and hope that suffices. Nine months into this relationship and you realize this is your first kiss. You’ve both given and received oral this whole time, but not a single kiss. You can’t get over the way he feels. His lips are warm and soft, despite being hid under beskar for so long. You immediately tangle your fingers in his hair, and you can’t get over how soft his hair is either. You stay like this for a couple minutes before Din pulls you onto his lap. You can already feel him getting hard under you and this sends all the blood remaining in your body directly to your clit. Neither of you have done more together than just oral; you never really needed to. You’ve had sex before with other guys on your home planet, but you’re not sure he has. Probably would have been a good idea to ask.

You can’t stop exploring every inch of his face. There are other parts of his body that are exciting you right now but touching his face for the first time demands your full attention. He eventually starts moving down to leave kisses across your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks here and there. He starts to tug at the bottom of your shirt, and you happily oblige. He manages to get your bra off before you’re even finished taking off your shirt. He puts his mouth on one nipple while using his thumb on the other. He’s good at this; he’s done this to you before countless times. Several minutes pass of just hungry and desperate exploration from the both of you. You want him right now, for the first time since you’ve known him you want him to fuck you. You finally decide to ask the question you’ve been avoiding.

“Din. Have you ever done this before?” you whisper, breathing heavily. You get a really good look at his face again when you ask this, and it makes you throb with need.

“No. I-uh, haven’t,” he responds, looking away. Not at you, just like he’s disappointed with himself. This wasn’t something you considered before now, but you also decide that this is the opposite of a problem.

“Hey. Wait, no,” you begin as you turn his head by his chin, “it’s okay. Why would I be mad?” You finish, smiling.

“I know you’ve told me before that you have, and I was too disappointed to say that I hadn’t. It’s not every day you meet a really hot girl in my line of work, so I just haven’t.” He stops, but you don’t think he’s finished speaking. He grabs your jaw in a way that makes you want to scream a little, and leans into your ear, “but now I really really really really fucking want to. I need to,” he whispers. A small sound comes from your throat unintentionally.

Okay. God. Okay. He’s on board. That’s, fuck, that’s great. You’re going to have to take a little bit of the lead here, but you can tell Din might not need too much guidance. You stand up and reach out your hands to pull him up too. You lead him to the room on the Crest that you’ve been using to sleep in. Nothing more than an old mattress, but it has served you well. You unzip Din’s pants and slip them down past his hips, taking his underwear along with it. Fuck. God. You want to ride this man until you scream, but you take him in your mouth first. Just to give him a familiar sensation to ease some of his nerves you sense he’s developing.

“O-oh. Fuck. Sweet girl,” he says as he grabs the back of your head.

You continue like this for a couple minutes until you get up and remove your own pants and underwear. You push him onto the mattress, and you return to the familiar place on his lap. You plant kisses on his neck as you tease your own entrance with his head. You help guide his dick in and allow yourself to sink down slowly, as you adjust. God, fucking fuck. You knew how big he was, but you didn’t think how this would translate. You cannot get over how good he feels; how full you feel. You’ve gotten yourself off in the long days he’s been gone thinking about how good this would feel. You underestimated.

“Oh god. Din, oh my fucking god. You feel so good,” you say as feel yourself fully adjust. You begin to ride him, taking some of the lead while he gets used to the feeling.

“Sweet girl. I should have done this to you so fucking long ago. God your pussy feels so fucking good,” he grunts. The last part sends your spiraling. Without any prompting, he reaches down and rubs circles around your clit. He’s good at this.

This serves as a signal that you can speed up, which he reciprocates as he matches your upward movements with his own. He’s hitting spots inside of you, you didn’t think were possible. You can’t even begin to form sentences; you’re just trying to soak up how fucking good he feels. Owing to your many months of head before this, he is lasting considerably longer than any of your previous boyfriends. Thank god.

“Holy fuck. God, baby. How are you doing?” He asks, checking in. You’ll have to remember to kiss him for that later. No one has ever asked you that during sex before.

“Don’t stop. Fuck. Please don’t stop. Rub my clit again, please Din,” you feel yourself nearing the edge; you’re fighting for it.

But then he stops and does something unexpected. Without leaving you, he holds onto you and replaces his body with yours. Suddenly he’s pushing into you from the top and is using his thumb on your clit. Fuck he’s good at this, how is he so good at this?

“Does my sweet girl like this? Do you like it when I’m on top, slamming into you?” he asks, doing exactly what he just described.

You don’t have an answer; you can’t answer. You think you might be moaning, but it may just be screaming. You can feel your muscles tightening and you’re aching for a release.

“Din, f-fuck. Din. I think-I think I’m gonna,”

You feel every nerve in your body fire at once and your vision goes white. A wave of pleasure racks your body and you feel all of your muscles constrict and then loosen. You’re not even conscious of the sounds you are making. You grab on and dig your nails into his hips.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages to get out before you feel him leave you. You feel his warm cum spread across your stomach and breasts. This sends another small jolt to every part of you. You didn’t tell him to do this, but it is exactly what you wanted. You use two of your fingers to collect some off your chest and put it in your mouth.

He collapses in a heap beside you. You’re both breathing heavily and coming down off of what just happened. You take a second to look at him again before you speak, knowing that the times you will get to do so will be limited. You don’t think you will ever get over how fucking good he looks, and how fucking lucky you seem to be.

“Was that okay?” he asks. You realized you were silent for too long and made him worry. In all of _that_ you had totally forgotten he’s never done this before.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Yes Din, it was fucking amazing,” you say, gesturing widely.

“Oh okay. Good. We should do that again sometime,” he said, yawning. You were also spent, both from the long emotional day and his dick. You knew what that meant; you always know what he means. You were good too, but you were glad he didn’t say it. It meant more that way. You were just beginning to dose off before you realized there was still something left unsaid.

“I love you too.”

“Mhmmm,” was all you heard in response.


End file.
